Confessions of a Disney Fan
by Kaitlinbell
Summary: Without warning stupid childhood books take on this great feeling of a life story, a retelling of all your hopes and fears and dreams. A tale of your love. MarcoDylan


This is for JadeDanielle...even though she never told me what she wanted for her birthday. So this is my...abysmal attempt at a present.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Now...no one laugh or anything okay?

When I was a little kid, like all others, I had a favorite fairy tale that I insisted my mother read to me each and every night. I'd snuggle down in my blankets and she would smooth the annoying curls out of my eyes and look down at me in that motherly way that says she'll always love me no matter how much milk was spilled or how many walls were covered in crayon.

Come to think of it I rather miss that time...but I'm getting off track. Sorry.

Anyway, my favorite fairy tale was always _The Little Mermaid_.

Yep, is that the most masculine thing you've ever heard or what?

My mother read me the story out of the little Golden Books, where the pictures are the same as the films, though I'd never seen the movie at all. You just could not imagine how many times I had heard it. I'm pretty sure I could recite it for you. I just remember thinking it would be so awesome to have flippers. Typical of a five year old, of course, but now that I'm older it's a bit odd to think back on it because when you get to be about my age....

...all the sudden everything takes on these new meanings that confuse you and twist your mind in directions it's never been before. Roads change from east to west and your little trail of bread crumbs disappears. Without warning stupid childhood books take on this great feeling of a life story, a retelling of all your hopes and fears and dreams.

A tale of your love.

Which is just stupid right? I don't know, and most everyone here is wondering where in the heck I'm going with this, and to tell the truth I haven't the faintest clue. It's just....I woke up next to Marco this morning.

Like I always do.

I kissed him awake. I made stupid comments about housewives while he made breakfast, then I washed the dishes while he returned the favor. We went out and walked Valet, our dog, during which we had a few rousing games of find the squirrel. And then finally we came back home where, since we were both on holiday (perks of being a hockey star), we hung out in the living room for five hours straight where he watched me run into walls during Grand Turismo.

Just another day in my alarmingly mundane life.

Quaint. Slow. And deliciously perfect.

But after the games he forced me to put it away for another weekend and brought out a video for us to watch.

_The Little Mermaid._

To this very day I'd never _seen_ it, only reread my poor falling apart Golden Book that I practically hero-worshipped. In Marco's words it was "about damn time I watched something that ninety-nine percentof America had already seen and grown sick of."

So I had Marco snuggled up to my side with his extremely cold nose buried in my neck and very warm fingers wrapped in my hand. The play button was hit...and we watched.

Sign of shocking masculinity number two: I cried.

Yep. Serious water works going on.

All of the sudden there was me and Marco on the big screen and one of us had all of the sudden grown boobs and red hair, but I really couldn't find it in myself to care. There was our battle, our pain, our joy for all to see.

There was Marco's dad with white hair and a trident and Jay with eight legs. There was even Paige scuttling about with bug eyes and red claws. Just out of no where my entire life was popping up in the these two-dimensional characters and I just couldn't take it.

Because Ariel and Derek made it to the end. They kissed and lived happily ever after along with all those other sappy Disneyesque things that go along with it.

Just like me and Marco had made it.

So call me girly. Call me pathetic. You can even call me sappy. But hey, I spent three years hiding from big daddy Trident, shying away from the ever watchful Sebastion. I even had a run in with an ugly purple octopus occasionally...all in the name of love.

And even through all of that....I got my happy ending.

And that's definitely something worth shedding a few tears over, no matter how macho I'm supposed to be. Now if only I could get away with coloring on the walls again we'd be all set.

----------------------------------------------------------

Now I'm going to bed. Happy belated birthday dear.


End file.
